This is what I was going to write today before a story happened instead. It’s a topic that has gotten bumped that way at leasy three times, so I figured, what the hell, I wrote the story crazy early in the morning, I can do another blog entry.

But first, the absolutely mandatory Iron Maiden link :

There. Now we can continue.

I’ve been watching a true-crime show (you’d think I would learn) called, misleadingly, Your Worst Nightmare lately. It’s pretty much like most other true-crime shows except that the production values for the reenactments are quite excellent for TV. Well acted, shot on film, good likenesses, and so on.

And yup, I am finding it depressing, like with the Forensic Files. And that is mostly due to the high quality reenactments. They are like made-for-TV horror movies, and knowing that this all happened in the real world is really depressing.

But I am not here to talk about that today. Instead, I want to talk about danger.

Being part horror movie, the episodes have had people in mortal (and fatal) danger at the hands of another human being. And when I watch these things, I feel for the people in danger (hence the depressing) but I don’t identify with them.

I’ve never screamed in fear, I have never seriously though I was going to die, and honestly, I know that I can handle myself quite well in a physical struggle.

And I know this because I was savaged by bullying growing up, and that brought out the savage in me. There is a side of me that sleeps most of the time that is fully capable of meeting violence with violence and which is very confident on that score because it knows that my particularly high voltage mind makes me very dangerous indeed.

I don’t like this side of me, and luckily, the conditions for summoning the demon are almost never met. I am a fairly calm fellow most of the time, anxieties aside, and in control of myself. The sorts of situations that bring that side to the fore are exceedingly rare in the lives of the average citizen. I doubt they will occur in my lifetime.

But that doesn’t make the beast go away. And it doesn’t go away for a very simple reason :

I need it.

Phew, that was not easy to confess. I feel a little dizzy now.

But yes, I need that savage side in order to feel safe. I know that, at least in extreme situations, that my brute side will come out and I will be able to fight off the enemy and emerge victorious from any battle.

Or if not, I will at least make the enemy regret having fucked with the wrong guy.

So while I don’t like my savage side, and it doesn’t fit in at all with the sort of person I want to see myself as, there is no point in disapproving of it any more. To do so would be downright disingenuous, if not outright hypocritical.

I need my monster. And he needs me.

I’ve never been physically afraid of people. They’re just people, after all. Even as a little kid, I couldn’t see why people on TV would get all freaked out and scream just because some idiot with a knife and a mask pops up. It’s just a person! Pick up something heavy and/or jagged and defend yourself!

Perhaps that says something deep about just how disconnected from mainstream humanity I am. Or perhaps it is merely the arrogance of someone who has never fought for his very life.

But I do know this : I mourn the humanity and civilization I lost when the beast was forced into life by circumstance. I know deep down in my gut that other people are better adjusted to society precisely because they were not cast into savagery against their will at a young age.

Maybe the beast keeps me safe…. from dangers extremely unlikely to recur.

But maybe it’s what keeps me from feeling safe, too.

I still will talk to you again tomorrow, nice people!